Isadore was sitting at the bar in Mulate's in Breaux Bridge. The crawfish
festival was last week, and now the town was quiet and not much going on. He was
thinking of going with his girl friend, Marie Doucet, to the fais-do-do this
Saturday night for some dancing. The bartender was wiping his shot glasses with
a rag, and decided to have a little fun with Isadore, his only customer and
potential source of amusement. "Isadore, I been thinkin' me dat dere's four
doors in this saloon."
Isadore said, "Mais, Theophile, I t'ink you wrong, yeah -- dere's only the front
door and the back door - and dat's only two doors. Oh, kooyôn me! I forgot
myself, me, I'm IsaDORE, dat's t'ree doors, foh shore! But dey don't got no
fourth door!"
"Well, Isadore, I'll bet you twenty dollars that there are four doors in this
saloon," the bartender said.
"Okay," Isadore said, "I'll take that bet. I can use that extra $20 for the
fais-do-do to spend on Marie. She likes beaucoup the sloe gin and coke things,
and dey cost plenty, yah!" Isadore put his twenty dollar bill on the bar
alongside the bartender's.
The bartender said, "Okay, Isadore, dere's the front door, that's one, dere's
the back door, dat's two, dere's you, Isadore, dat's t'ree, and dere's the
cuspidor, dat's four!" And with an exultant swoop, the bartender picked up the
two twenty dollar bills.
Isadore was crushed. He thought to himself, "Mais, I needed that money for
Marie's drinks." And he said to the bartender, "Oh, dat's bad, yah! Me, I don't
know if I got enough money to bring Marie to the fais-do-do."
The bartender, taking pity on Isadore, said, "Don't worry yourself, Isadore.
Here's comes Gaspé. You can make the bet with him and get your money back."
Gaspé sat down next to Isadore. Isadore said hello to him in a distracted sort
of way. Gaspé said, "Comment sa vais, Isadore?"
Isadore said, "Gaspé, I just been telling Theophile here that his saloon has
four doors. He doesn't believe me, what you t'ink?"
Gaspé look around and said, "Mais, dey got only two doors in this saloon, I
guarantee!"
Isadore pulled out the last twenty in his wallet and laid it on the bar,
"Gaspé, I'll bet you dat dere are four doors in this saloon."
Gaspé put up his twenty and said, "Okay, I'll take your bet. Prove it!"
Isadore said, "Well, dere's the front door, dat's one! Dere's the back door,
dat's two! Dere's me, Isadore, dat's t'ree!" And pointing dramatically at the
brass object on the floor, he said, "And dere's the . . . dere's the . . . .
. . dere's the . . .
Dat damn SPITOON done cost me FORTY DOLLARS today!"
[Notes: Cajuns don't care much for words - nobody ever caught a fish with words
- and having two words, one with two syllables and one with three syllables for
the same thing, they'll universally use the one with two syllables exclusively.
Thus, Isadore had a problem with the word, cuspidor, and remembered spitoon.
That reminds me of a story of Bob who heard that his friend, Fred,
brought home an ice chest full of fish every time he came back from fishing,
so he asked to go fishing with his friend. When they arrived at their fishing
spot, Fred took out a stick of dynamite and lit the short fuse. Bob began to
berate Fred severely about how cruel, illegal, and unsportsmanlike it was to
fish with explosives! Fred threw the dynamite with the short, sparkling fuse to
other end of the boat into Bob's hands and said, "You wanta talk or fish?"
The Cajun word for a dance is fais-do-do, pronounced as FAY- DOUGH-
DOUGH,which stems from the Cajun phrase Momma used to tell us to go to sleep.
In Cajun "fais dorme" literally means "make sleep" or simply go to sleep. With
doubled "do" sound, the "r" is silent, it becomes in kid talk, "fais-do-do", or
sometimes we heard, "make do-do". In Cajun towns when parents went to a dance,
they took the kids. The kids were instructed carefully that the parents were
going dancing and drinking and the kids were going to sleep, i.e., make do-do,
and thus the name of the dances came to have the title, "fais-do-do". Cajuns
knew how silly it is to tell kids NOT to do something, so instead of focusing on
what they wouldn't be allowed to do, i.e., run around the dance floor, the
parents got them to focus on what they were going to do, fais-do-do, sleep!
Another great Cajun word I heard all my life is kooyôn. It has no direct
English equivalent. It is pronounced like "KOO as in coon, and YAHN with the
silent "n" (rhymes with the French word "bon"). It means "crazy" or "dumb" or
a little addled in the head, or all the meanings together. It's never really
taken as an insult by a Cajun, as being kooyôn at times is accepted as a
ubiquitous human condition.
"Comment sa vais" means "How's it going?" in Cajun, a very typical greeting in
South Louisiana among Cajun folks even today.]
Another doyletics related incident happened to me. Coming home from Kenner on
I-10 in heavy traffic, an 18-wheel dump truck clipped the rear end of my 1996
Geo Metro LSI Hatchback causing the little car to slam around sideways in the
front of the huge truck's bumper and I was pushed sideways down the center lane
at 60 mph until he stopped his truck. I felt like a fly stuck to a windshield.
When the truck stopped, my Geo moved forward towards the center railing of the
overpass and I was forced to turn left into oncoming traffic, which, thankfully,
had seen the accident and had stopped by then. I contacted the railing gently,
stopped, turned the car around and pulled safely off the road. Not an injury to
me or anyone else. Not even sore muscles the next morning anywhere on my body.
No other vehicles involved except the truck, which was undamaged. Left side of
car is smashed, but drive-able, and completely usable, once I replaced the
smashed outside-rearview mirror. When I got out of the car, I felt exhilarated,
like after getting off an amusement park ride. No fear doyles whatsoever, during
or after the accident! With a clear head during the whole process, I was able to
steer the car to safety. This is not a way of confirming doyletics that I would
recommend to anyone else - I'm merely reporting what happened to me. Fear is an
expendable emotion from now on. I have added an extra wide-angle mirror to my
inside rearview mirror to avoid such an unexpected onslaught from a big rig
again.
